


Somewhere

by unlikelyvalentines (reegars)



Category: The Last of Us
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-17 14:12:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8147065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reegars/pseuds/unlikelyvalentines
Summary: for outbreak day 2016- small snippets looking into the lives of the main cast of the last of us on the third anniversary of the outbreak





	

Somewhere, it’s September 26th again. Another birthday. Another year marked since the power cut to the cities, since the roads were blocked with abandoned cars, since a little girl was shot and bled to death in her father’s arms. Somewhere, Tommy is making dinner by a campfire that needs more wood. It’s damp and cold. He’s trimming the meat of a deer they managed to kill without waking every infected soul within a mile radius. He places the old pan with the wobbly handle he keeps strapped to his pack on the stones around the fire. Joel is laying on his side. “Come on,” Tommy says quietly. “Come have some water.” Septembers are the hardest for them. Harder than the winters. It’s been months since they’ve slept under a roof, on their way to whatever functional QZ they can find. And that’s assuming they’ll even let them in the door. 

Somewhere, Joel is touching the watch on his wrist, remembering. Three years is not enough time to grieve. Every good thing about himself, he’d carefully placed within the heart of his daughter; when she died, so did his love. Kindness. Humor. Empathy. Left to be cold and closed off. His brother could not hope to understand. Somewhere, Joel is not listening to the words. He is not smelling dinner cooking. He will not eat tonight, sitting in silent vigil, hunger strike, for all the meals his daughter will never eat. They’ll head out in the morning, hungry and exhausted from keeping watch over one another, in search of somewhere to call home. A lost cause. 

Somewhere, Marlene is at a table, listening. Maps strewn about. Her 24th birthday just weeks ago, she carefully watches the eyes of the men at the table around her. They’re trying to plot for support, for funds, for recruits. They don’t understand that to appeal to the people, they need to be what the military is not: forgiving, welcoming, less violent. The explosives and the guns are not helping their cause. They don’t listen; they never do. Somewhere, Marlene is wringing her hands, waiting to speak up. The men keep talking. She clears her throat. “What about the radio?” she blurts out, and they turn to her in mild surprise. One scoffs. “The radio. If we broadcast out our message, maybe they will listen.” Somewhere, someone makes a note. “Tell you what. You think of what to say,” one says, “and you’ll be our voice.” 

Somewhere, Henry is on the floor between his parents. He reads the same book for the umpteenth time. Eight years old is too young to be in this world, but they push onward. His parents are arguing, knowing that soon they will have to leave Connecticut. He swallows. He does not cry. 

Somewhere, Bill is fixing up an engine. “Pass me that wrench, Frank,” he says, pointing towards his partner. “No, the other one.” Frank looks around. “What other one?” he asks. Bill laughs. Frank laughs. “Dumbass,” he murmurs. They’ll leave for Lincoln in the morning.

Somewhere, Maria is in the bunker beneath her father’s house. “Three years today,” she says, cracking open a can of beans from the collection of saved and newly scavenged goods on the walls. Her father hums. “You all told me I was crazy for prepping this stuff, but I think it’s kept us pretty safe so far.” She nods in agreement, pouring the beans into a pot. She will turn 19 this year. She would have gone to college for veterinary medicine. “I miss mom,” she says, hiding tears. 

Somewhere, Anna looks up as Marlene comes in the door, smiling. “We’re going to do radio broadcasts,” she says, beaming. Anna smiles. “This might be it. We really might be able to make a difference.” Anna kisses her forehead.

Somewhere, Tess is cleaning her gun. When she wipes her hand across her face, dirt and oil smear with it. “You got a lil something–” her friend says, motioning on his face to mirror her own. She says nothing, taking a rag and wiping the grime away. She hesitates with the dirty fabric, hiding her eyes behind it as a warm flush of tears passes over her eyes. September is the hardest. She remembers her brother on the highway. Her father in his office, handing her his gun, the one she still carried. “Be brave, Tessa,” he’d said, eyes red and clouded. Point blank. It took her hours to get his blood out of her clothes. She cried the entire time. She couldn’t get used to this life, it seemed. Signs of the military, buzz about the Fireflies, fear surrounding the infected and the factions that both hunted the living at every hour and turn. She had a great poker face. “Gotta show you how to shoot to kill, huh?” she swallowed, hiding the tears in her voice with dry humor. “How are we gonna make it to Boston if I’m dragging your ass along?” 

Somewhere, Joel is laying on his side, staring at the watch. The glass, unbroken but scratched and dirty, hiding his reflection. He touched the scar on the bridge of his nose from that night. He misses his daughter. He says nothing. He wonders what time it is, remembering the ticking of the clock in the living room. His watch stopped a long time ago. “Come eat,” Tommy says. Joel stays still, like a corpse in a remembered casket. He couldn’t move if he wanted to. Tommy sighs and cuts his meat into pieces. 

Somewhere, Joel remembers.

**Author's Note:**

> in case you're wondering, i put joel at 33, tommy at 28, marlene at 24, anna, bill, and frank ??, henry at 8, maria at 19, and tess at 21... ellie, riley, and sam don't exist yet! this is meant to be a "real time" story as if we're talking about today itself (sept 26, 2016) and this is just happening in some other universe. that's mildly comforting and also unsettling to me. happy outbreak day!!


End file.
